


Strange Bedfellows

by Chiyume



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bisexual Dean, Destiel - Freeform, Dry Humping, Explicit Sexual Content, Gay Sex, Hand Jobs, Hotel Sex, Human Castiel, M/M, Non-Penetrative Sex, One Night Stands, POV Dean Winchester, Porn, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, Sharing a Bed, Sharing a Room, Sleeping Together, Sleepy Cuddles, Sleepy Sex, Smut, Stranger Sex, Strangers, Strangers to Lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-05
Updated: 2016-03-05
Packaged: 2018-05-24 21:52:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6167983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chiyume/pseuds/Chiyume
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Modern AU where Dean is flying across the state to attend his brother's upcoming wedding.<br/>His flight got delayed, the cabbie got lost on the way to the hotel, and all Dean wants is to get to his room and sleep for like a million years.<br/>Unfortunately, there seems to have been some sort of mistake, because when Dean enters his hotel room, someone else is already sleeping in his bed…</p>
            </blockquote>





	Strange Bedfellows

 

 

* * *

 

It was late.

The hotel lobby was bright, although the lights had already been comfortably dimmed for the night when Dean stepped inside, his backpack slung over his shoulder and his wheeled duffle trailing behind him.

Not even bothering with checking the obviously unmanned reception’s desk, Dean set course for the elevator. He was tired. Exhausted, really. The plane had been delayed, the cabbie had taken a wrong turn on the way through town, and had it not been for the modern wonders that were smartphones, Dean would be without a place to stay for the night.

Luckily, seeing as this was a relatively new hotel, he had been able to check in to his room remotely from an app on his phone. Usually, the rooms required key cards, but they also worked with NFC, providing the guest with a digital key code which could be used to enter the booked room.

Armed with one of these key codes, Dean pressed the elevator button to the third floor. As the doors slid shut, he closed his eyes with a sigh, commencing his journey upwards.

Fuck, he could kill for a recliner seat and a minibar right about now. Sam was _so_ going to hear about this nightmare of a trip tomorrow. Dean had already texted him about the plane being late, but he hadn’t told him exactly by how much yet. He was going to save that information for when they met tomorrow morning. Just the fact that Dean had been forced to _fly!_ Spending hours upon hours stuck inside a tin can several thousand feet up in the air, without any control of the situation whatsoever wasn’t exactly what he would call a relaxing trip. Honestly, if it hadn’t been for the fact that this was a rather special occasion, Dean would have downright refused to go.

Whose idea had it been to get married on the other side of the country, anyway, Sam’s or Eileen's? Not that it mattered; Dean wouldn’t have missed this wedding had it taken place in China. Though that didn’t mean that Sam in any way would be spared hearing about Dean's many inconveniences _getting to it_.

The elevator opened with a low ping, and Dean stepped out.

The floor was carpeted, and his duffle barely made any sound at all as he dragged it after himself down the hallway towards his room. Once he found the right room number, he pulled his phone out of his pocket, opened up the correct app and held it up against the little panel next to the door handle.

Soon he’d get to sleep. Maybe watch some TV before he turned in for the night. Who knew, fancy place like this might even have a pornchannel or something?

The little light on the panel gave a low click; the red light indicating that the door had been locked flipping over to a green one. Dean tucked his phone back into his pocket, grabbed his duffle, and opened the door.

He fumbled for the lightswitch, grunting with satisfaction when the lamp above his head flickered on. He stepped inside, dropped his backpack on the floor by the shoe rack, and closed the door behind him.

The lock had just barely had enough time to click shut when he stiffened, straightening up abruptly. Brow furrowing, he turned back around and stared down at the shoe rack, slowly blinking.

There was a set of dark dress shoes already placed on the shelf, straight and neat, right next to where Dean had just dumped his bag. Looking up, he could also conclude that there was a tan trench coat dangling from one of the hangers in front of him.

Dean was tired, and so his brain didn’t really make the connection at first. He was still trying to figure out why someone would leave both their shoes and coat behind after checking out when another light, coming from further inside the room, got switched on.

“Who are you?”

Dean turned around, eyes widening and mouth falling open as he came face to face with what he could only conclude to be another, stark naked male, sitting on the bed. The man's eyes were bleary, squinting in the light, his short hair messily sticking out in all kinds of various, sleepy directions. Sitting up, his rather shameless nudity was only partially hidden underneath the thin covers of the hotel bed, which lay pooling around his waist in delicate folds.

“I— I’m—” Dean stuttered, nearly tripping over his duffle as he took a staggering step backwards.

“What are you doing here?” the man asked, and his eyes narrowed suspiciously at him. “How did you get in?”

“I got— My room, I checked in, and I— I got this code…”

The man frowned, his head tilting slowly to the side as he continued to squint his eyes in Dean’s direction. He looked like he was trying to understand the ramblings of a foreign language, as if the words Dean were using made no sense whatsoever to him—despite the fact that Dean had just heard the other speak perfect English. He also made no attempt whatsoever to cover himself up, as if being naked in Dean’s presence wasn’t bothering him at all.

“I didn’t know anyone was in here,” Dean carried on, trying to explain himself clearer. “I checked in with the phone app, and this is the room they gave me, I swear—” He reached into his back pocket, hauling his phone back up with another string of stuttered explanations.

Fuck had he read it wrong? Had he entered the wrong room? Then how come the code had worked? If it was the wrong room it shouldn’t have worked, should it?

“What’s your name?”

Dean looked up from his screen, blinking dumbly.

“What?”

“Your name,” the other repeated, sitting up higher on the bed while rubbing at his eyes. His naked chest rose in a deep intake of breath as he stifled a yawn behind the back of his hand.

“Dean,” Dean said, tearing his eyes away from the mesmerising tattoo situated just below the other man’s rib. “Uh, Winchester.”

The man blinked, his posture seemingly relaxing somewhat.

“Well,” he said. “Hello, Dean. I’m Castiel. Novak,” he added, as an afterthought. His eyes went up and down Dean’s body, taking in the sight of his bag and jacket.

“Let me guess,” he said, a knowing little smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Your flight was delayed?”

“Yeah…” Dean let out an embarrassed chuckle. “And then the cabbie got lost.”

The other man—Castiel—let out a sympathetic wince, his nose crinkling.

“I’ve been through the same ordeal myself. I touched down less than two hours ago. I was just about to fall asleep when I heard the door open.”

“Yeah, uh, about that…” Dean cleared his throat, pointing with his thumb over his shoulder. “I should probably be heading back down to the reception. Sorry to disturb you.”

“The reception’s closed,” Castiel objected, confusion etching lines on his brow.

“Yeah, but there was a couch down there,” Dean explained. “I’ll just sleep on that ‘til they open in the morning.”

“What, in the lobby?” Castiel asked in disbelief.

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

Dean opened and closed his mouth, eyebrows shooting up.

“Why?” he repeated, only receiving a long, quizzical look from the other man in return. He licked his lips, the startling blue colors of Castiel’s eyes having him losing his line of thought for a second.

“Well, for starters,” he said, gesturing to Castiel’s naked torso. “This room’s obviously taken.”

Castiel looked down at himself, following the line of Dean’s hand before looking back up again, brow still furrowed.

“Second,” Dean continued. “I mean, you’re— The bed is—”

He cut himself off, swallowing down hard when Castiel’s head tilted to the side once again, eyes scrutinizing him from the short distance across the room.

“Wh—Why do you ask?” Dean finished lamely, his mouth suddenly dry.

Castiel continued to look at him for another moment before turning his gaze to the mattress, placing his hand, palm down, on the empty space on his right.

“This is a king size bed,” he said matter-of-factly.

Dean nodded.

“Two people can sleep here,” Castiel continued, canting his head forward, and again Dean nodded dutifully.

“So you’re saying—”

“I’m saying that we can share the bed, yes,” Castiel finished for him. “We’re both tired. The reception’s closed for at least another six hours, and I assume that even if you _do_ manage to get a room before six o’clock, you still have someplace to be in the morning?”

Dean swallowed again, the gulp of his throat loud inside his own ears.

“Unless,” Castiel said, suddenly looking worried. “You’re uncomfortable with the thought of sleeping in the same bed as me?”

What kind of fucking question was that? As if anyone would be comfortable sharing a bed with a complete stranger; one who, on top of everything, was still very, very naked!

Yet, Dean couldn’t deny the fact that the guy had a point. He remembered the look of the couch downstairs; square, black and bulky. Modern. It was probably hard as a log and nothing like the comfy couch back home in Dean’s own living room. The prospects of sleeping in a bed was undoubtedly much more attractive, even with the unexpected addition of a seemingly shameless, yet genuinely helpful guy.

A very _handsome_ , genuinely helpful guy.

Dean opened his mouth, feeling guilt prickle at his conscience as he saw the way Castiel’s face seemed to drop as he waited for his response.

“No,” Dean said, letting out an incredulous laugh. “No, I’m fine. As long as you’re not… You know, uncomfortable either?”

“Why would I be uncomfortable?” Castiel asked, brow furrowing for the millionth time in less than ten minutes. “It’s just sleeping.”

Alright, handsome, _naive_ , genuinely helpful guy, then.

“Nevermind,” Dean mumbled, turning to jostle his duffle out of the way. “As long as you don’t kick me in your sleep,” he warned, ignoring the other’s indignant huff as he grabbed his bag and walked it around to the other side of the bed.

He quickly dug up his toilet bag from his backpack, along with a new set of underwear and a t-shirt.

“I’m just gonna use the shower real quick,” he explained, already moving.

“Of course,” Castiel answered, blue eyes following as Dean disappeared into the bathroom and closed the door behind him.

Dean showered quickly, as promised. The walls of the shower were already wet when he stepped inside; meaning that Castiel had showered earlier as well. As the suds of soap washed down the drain, he did his very best not to let his thoughts linger on the mental image of what Castiel must have looked like in there, rubbing soap all over himself. Wet hair plastered to his forehead, mouth open while water trickled down his throat and chest, down over the surface of that alluring tattoo…

He thought about what it had looked like out there on the bed. Of the tight, inky lines stretching across tan skin; the shaded lines of ribs and muscles underneath standing out clearly in the light from the bedside table. He stifled a groan, running his fingers over his scalp, feeling the hot spray of water wash down his body.

The way Castiel had looked at him out there. Those blue eyes may have appeared innocent and clueless as to what went through Dean’s head when the offer of sharing a bed came up, but there had been something there. Something bright and aware in the depths of that gaze that made Dean feel like his heart was going to trip over itself in exhilaration.

Or maybe it had been his imagination. Dean had been with plenty of guys in his days—and women too, for that matter—but this was the first time that he had actually found himself feeling almost starstruck just from the prospect alone.

If the guy was straight, Dean swore, he’d cry himself to sleep every night for the upcoming five years.

He tipped his head back, running his hands down his chest and abs, realizing that he was hard between his legs. Regrettably, he reached out and turned the mixer to cold, hissing when the chill water rushed down over him.

He wasn’t a shy person by nature, but to walk out in front of a complete stranger—which he was about to share a bed with shortly—sporting an enormous boner, would be a bit too blunt even for him…

Once his brain had returned from its temporary vacation in his groin, he got out of the shower, toweled himself dry, and got dressed. He brushed his teeth, making sure there were no sesame seeds or something stuck in between his teeth from the burger he had at the airport, and then added a bit of deodorant underneath his armpits. Sure, he just showered, but it’s not like there was anything wrong with smelling nice.

Stepping outside the bathroom he sent a quick, stealthy look towards the bed. Castiel was still there, but now he was wearing a light grey t-shirt along with a pair of white boxers. Dean took a moment to mourn the other’s nakedness, but his thoughts were quickly replaced by nervousness when Castiel scooted aside to give him room to join him on the bed.

Dean allowed himself some time to put his stuff back inside his duffle before he sat down on the mattress, quickly tucking his legs in underneath the free cover left on his side. Sneaking another sideward glance at Castiel, he could conclude that the other man was indeed _very_ handsome. Sharp cheekbones, a strong nose, chiseled jawline and chin…

Oh, life was such a cruel little bitch. To throw this at him, without warning. He couldn’t even come up with any good flirtations to use for Christ’s sake…

He could wing it, of course, but if Castiel wasn’t interested things could turn so incredibly awkward, so incredibly fast. Plus, Dean would most likely end up down on top of that old lobby couch faster than he could say ‘sorry, my mistake’.

Fuck, it was the ultimate torture; like taking a kid into a candy store and then tell them they can’t have any of the goodies stashed inside.

He sighed, resting his head upon the pillow.

“Are you ready?” Castiel asked. Dean knew that the question wasn’t meant to be suggestive, but damnit, with vocal cords like that, Castiel would have been able to make reading out loud from the phone book sound suggestive. He heard the rattle as the other’s hand closed around the chord to the bedside table lamp, probably already thumbing at the switch.

“Yeah, sure,” Dean answered, pretending to stifle a yawn to hide the light shiver in his voice.

“Sleep well.”

“You too, Cas.”

There was a brief silence, and then Dean heard Castiel let out an amused little snort before the lights flicked off, leaving the room in complete darkness.

Dean felt the mattress dip when Castiel settled down underneath his own covers. Even though he knew that he shouldn’t, he still felt his heart skip a beat when he heard the low moan of content that escaped the other’s lips when Castiel burrowed his head into the pillow.

It was a weird feeling, lying there in the dark less than two feet away from a complete stranger without even… doing anything. One night stands weren’t exactly something Dean was a stranger to; platonically sleeping next to another person however, was.

Fuck, he hadn’t done anything like that since he was a kid, and back then that other person had been his own brother. Sammy had a lot of nightmares as a kid, and for Dean to refuse him the safety of sleeping in Dean’s bed when he woke up, crying and shaking, would have been beyond cruel. It was something he as a big brother simply hadn’t been able to bring himself to do.

 _This_ situation was, needless to say, notably different.

He felt on edge, muscles strung tight, and he was jumpy; every little sound or movement from the other man making his heart skip a beat inside his chest.

Damn, he would never be able to fall asleep like this. Not with Castiel so close. He was still tired, and having his eyes closed felt nice, but… Jesus, he should have just jacked off in the shower, why didn’t he do that?

He sighed, turning over on his side, forcing his mind to think about something else. Like Sam and Eileen, for example. The wedding rehearsal which would take place the next day. His Best Man speech which he still hadn’t finished properly.

It seemed to work, and in combination with his long, exhausting day and the soothing sound of Castiel’s breathing, it didn’t take many minutes before he felt himself drift off to sleep. With a last, content sigh that filled up his nostrils with the fresh scent of his own shampoo, an even softer darkness enveloped him to gently pull him under the surface of his own consciousness.

The steering wheel of the Impala was firm underneath the grip of his hands, the rumble from the engine travelling up his spine in tiny shivers. The road was dark and empty, the interstate empty except for himself. There were stars out above him. He knew that there should be a roof obstructing his view as he glanced up, but the sight of the stars twinkling down at him didn’t strike him as odd, even though some distant part of him realized it should.

Sammy was waiting for him, and he had to pick him up, but there was no hurry, Dean had plenty of time. He leaned forward and turned on the radio, and the music that came streaming out of the speakers was soft and gentle, the bass drumming deep and low, making him want to tip his head back and groan. He swayed with the music, humming along with the lyrics which he couldn’t quite make out. Rocking his hips back against the seat he tightened his grip around the wheel, pressing in against the leather. A hand slid around his waistline, gripping him tight, and he moaned, the sound of his own voice startling him into opening his eyes.

Suddenly there was no more car, no more road. Everything around him was dark; and inky black depth blurring together in obscure shapes in front of his eyes. He was still on his side, facing away from the bed, and as he blinked, trying to make out his surroundings, he felt a puff of warm air beat against the back of his neck.

He froze, the air coming to a stuttering halt inside his chest as it all came crashing back to him. The flight, the cab, the hotel room.

Castiel.

He could feel the length of an arm as it wrapped tighter around his ribcage, pulling him back, and his breath hitched.

“Castiel?” he breathed, trying to get the other’s attention, but his only response was a slow, languid swipe of a thumb against the bared skin of his stomach.

“Cas?” he tried again, a bit louder. This time Castiel responded by pressing in even closer, grumbling something incoherent and sleepy against Dean’s skin at the same time as he rocked his hips forward. Dean’s pulse began to race as he felt something hard rub against his lower back, and driven by curiosity, he pushed back on it, feeling the hair on his arms rise to attention when Castiel let out a sleepy moan from just behind his head.

Oh, sweet Jesus, this couldn’t be happening.

Dean had barely even done anything, but suddenly he felt dirty, as if he was taking advantage of the other guy simply by _being_ there. Castiel was hard and asleep, using Dean’s body as a fucking humping pillow, and even though a part of Dean was telling him to wake the other guy up, another part of him sort of wanted to keep quiet about the whole thing and simply let the situation unfold.

Was that sexual assault? Did it count as that?

Technically, Castiel wasn’t even aware of what he was doing, and sure, Dean’s dick was slowly starting to pick up an interest to the situation, but was this really okay?

If he just… didn’t move. He could just stay there and… _not_ embarrass the guy who so graciously had offered him to stay in his room, despite the fact that Dean had come barging in, in the middle of the night, waking him up so rudely. By mistake, yes, but Cas had forgiven him that. Wouldn’t it only be fair if Dean forgave Castiel this mistake in turn?

His line of thought shattered when Castiel let out another groan against the nape of his neck. Dean shuddered when he felt lips ghost against his skin, his cock twitching heavily inside his boxers.

Fuck, he wouldn’t survive this.

Another slow roll of Castiel’s hips sent Dean’s body swaying, and the fingers against his waistline twitched, sliding down. Dean held his breath, biting down on his lower lip to avoid moaning out loud while he thought about how close Castiel’s hand was to the elastic band of his underwear. Another inch or two and those slender fingers would be close enough to brush against the growing bulge inside his boxers. The thought made Dean shudder yet again, and Castiel’s voice rose up in a low whine as the jut of his hips turned even more insistent.

Dean was hard, and soon he was biting his lip so hard he could practically taste the blood on his tongue. He was shaking, a fine tremble reverbrating through his limbs in spasmic little twitches while he tried to keep his breathing steady.

This was his punishment for thinking about all those things in the shower, he was sure of it. To be subjected to this painful pleasure without being able to reciprocate it. It was _torture_.

The fabric of Castiel’s underwear was damp against Dean's skin, the movement having pushed Dean’s t-shirt up to bear his back for Castiel’s unconscious ministrations. Shit, what wouldn’t Dean give to be facing the other way right about now. To have the other man push their dicks together, rubbing against Dean’s front until they both came, hot and sticky in their underwear.

As if he heard him, Castiel gave a new, louder groan, and then he went quiet.

The rocking against Dean’s back stopped, and Dean could hear Castiel suck in a deep, close to petrified breath through his teeth as the other’s fingers froze, mid-swipe over Dean’s hip.

Dean waited, his own breath coiled tight inside his chest. Seconds passed, the steady beating of Dean’s heart the only thing keeping the time. He heard Castiel swallow, and even though it was a phantom feeling, he shivered as he thought himself feel the bob of the other’s jugular move against his shoulder.

“How long have I been doing that?”

The words were whispered against Dean’s neck, Castiel’s voice thick and throaty with barely contained arousal and an apologetic sense of self-preservation.

Dean swallowed, for a moment doubting his own ability to form the words needed to answer.

“About ten minutes… I think,” he rasped. Behind his back he heard Castiel let out a low wince, the self-preservation giving way for shame.

“How long were you—How long have you been awake…?”

“ _Less_ than ten minutes…?” Dean whispered hesitantly.

Castiel went silent, and for a moment all Dean heard was the steady ins and outs of the other’s breath. Then the mattress shifted, the covers sliding down as Castiel’s feet tangled in the fabric in his haste to get up and away.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, sitting up. “I didn’t mean to— I’ll just—”

The hand on Dean’s body shifted, threatening to pull away. Before Dean’s brain had the chance to catch up with what his body was doing, he had twisted around and grabbed it by the wrist, halting Castiel’s escape.

“You don't—” He cut himself off, feeling his voice threaten to break. He expected Castiel to tear the hand away, but instead the other man appeared to still under Dean's touch, freezing in place. Dean wasn’t sure how he knew, but somehow he could feel that the other was looking at him through the dark, blue eyes wide while Castiel’s chest rose and fell rapidly beneath that grey t-shirt.

He took a deep breath, letting up on the punishing grip around Castiel’s hand.

“You don’t have to stop,” he breathed, not trusting his voice enough to even manage a whisper.

Castiel didn’t answer, and Dean did not dare move.

Fuck, did he ruin it now? Did he just make himself the creepy pervert, offering himself up to a complete stranger in a hotel room?

His chest felt as if it was going to explode, he was holding his breath so hard.

“Would you—”

Dean’s heart skipped a beat when Castiel’s voice came drifting across the bed, low and hesitant, but intrigued.

“Would it be alright?” the other finished quietly.

“Yeah…” Dean breathed back, nodding even though he was fairly sure Castiel couldn’t see him.

His heart was beating so hard he could feel the rush of his own blood pound against the inside of his skull when Castiel slowly lowered himself back down onto the bed, sliding in behind Dean’s back once more.

“Can I touch you?” Castiel asked, almost shyly, the low puff of his breath sending tremors down Dean’s spine.

“Dude, if you don’t, I’m gonna be very disappointed,” he murmured, guiding Castiel’s hand back to wrap around his waist.

He heard Castiel swallow again, an audible gulp right next to his ear, and then lips were pressing in against the side of Dean’s neck, making him gasp out loud.

“Is this okay?” Castiel asked, mouthing the words over his skin, and Dean nodded, swallowing down a moan.

“Yeah… Yeah, that’s— That’s nice…”

Castiel let out a tiny chuckle, a breathy little sound that made Dean’s head sear. The languid press of lips against his neck turned harder, more forceful, and Dean shuddered when Castiel’s hand slid out of Dean’s grip to move it up and down his side in light, lazy swipes.

It was slow and teasing, the warmth of Castiel’s body seeping into Dean’s skin as he began to move against him once more. There was some sort of hesitation in there still, as if Castiel was testing Dean’s offer before taking it any further, and as much as Dean appreciated the thought, it didn’t take long before the feathery touches turned frustratingly torturous.

Dean nudged himself closer, pushing his head back. Castiel seemed to take the hint, snaking his other arm in underneath Dean’s head to wrap it around him, cradling him against his chest. Fingers trailed across and found Dean’s nipples through his t-shirt, the barely-there touch making Dean arch himself against Castiel’s chest with a sharp hiss. Dean's hips shoved back, and in return Castiel buried a startled groan against Dean’s shoulder, rocking forward instinctively.

Suddenly, the hands dragged Dean’s t-shirt up, bunching it underneath his armpits, and Dean choked when two sets of fingers returned to his chest, rolling and tugging at his nipples in lazy, teasing motions.

“Shit…!”

Dean gasped, breathing the curse out through gritted teeth. He groped and clutched at the sheets with both hands, fisting the fabric as he attempted to remain still during the assault. Castiel’s hands were softer than he had imagined, but they were without a doubt the most sadistic ones he had ever had the pleasure to encounter. It didn't take long before Dean was writhing in Castiel's arms. Tossing his head, biting his lip, panting hard against the flesh of Castiel’s upper arm while Castiel continued to kiss and nip at his neck, using both lips and teeth with painstakingly skillful precision.

“I take it you like that?” Castiel murmured, adding another, teasing pinch to the nub inbetween his left thumb and index finger, making Dean moan out loud.

“Fuck yeah…” Dean breathed, his entire body twitching.

“Good…” Castiel purred. “Because I like doing it to you.”

Dean moaned again, nodding eagerly. Reaching his hand back, he grappled for and found the edge of Castiel’s hip, pushing him forward to grind harder against his back, like he had before. Again, Castiel took the hint, and Dean groaned when the other set up a steady pace against the slope of his back. Breath, hot and heavy, beat against Dean’s shoulder when Castiel pressed his mouth against it, letting out a long, throaty moan against the skin.

Dean shoved back, shifting his body so that the hard length of the other’s cock slotted up against his ass instead of his back, and Castiel’s hands pressed flat against his chest, pulling him in tight. The pace quickly grew frantic, the rhythm faltering and breaking apart while the sound of their joint breathing filled up the room. Dean was so turned on he could barely gather himself up enough to think, and whatever coherence he had left crumbled into smithereens when one of Castiel’s hands slid down his torso to palm at the front of his boxers.

“Oh, yeah…” he gasped, suddenly unable to think about anything other than the touch of Castiel's hand on his cock. “Oh, fuck yeah, Cas, touch me…!”

Castiel gave a loud, eager groan, and his fingers immediately began to tear at the elastics of Dean’s waistband, fumbling to get inside. When his fingers wrapped around Dean’s cock, Dean's hands clasped around Castiel’s forearm, his jaw slack as he buried his moan against the thick of Castiel’s bicep.

He wasn’t going to last long, he knew that already, and judging by the strung out sound of Castiel’s breathing, the other wasn’t far behind either.

They moved together, rocking and grinding against each other. Dean could feel the damp touch of Castiel’s cock through the fabric of the other’s boxers, an evident sign of the other man's excitement. Castiel’s hand moved over his erection, matching the rolling pace of their hips. Sweat had begun to form on his skin, beads of it rolling down the nape of his neck and further down his clavicle. Heat pooled in his stomach, shrill tendrils of pleasure licking up his spine, and fuck, fuck this was getting unbearable.

“You’re gonna make me come…” he panted, and he could feel the movement of Castiel’s head against his shoulder when the other nodded.

“I know…” he grated. “Dean… Oh, Dean, I’m so close…”

“Oh, fuck hurry... “ Dean begged. He would never be able to hold back if Castiel wasn’t there yet.

“Can I kiss you?” Castiel asked, his voice rising into a low whine as his hips stuttered. Dean nodded, the fingers clutching around Castiel’s forearm tightening as he twisted himself around, searching for the other’s lips.

Castiel’s mouth latched onto his with a moan so feral it sent goosebumps rippling down Dean’s entire body. He felt Castiel’s hips give another hard shove, and the hand around his cocked tightened. Dean’s mouth fell open, his breath coming out in short, ragged spurts against Castiel’s lips as he felt his orgasm claw its way up his spine. His body shook, white light exploding inside his head as his cock spilled, hot and twitching over Castiel’s fingers.

He heard Castiel wince—a broken, wounded sound—and then Castiel’s release sent wet heat smearing across Dean’s lower back as he came, rubbing himself against him, semen soaking Castiel’s underwear and leaving a thick daub of it sticking to Dean’s skin.

Castiel's hips gave a few more twitching shoves, slowly growing still in time with the lazy strokes his hand was still administering over Dean's softening length. His breath was warm over Dean's skin, quiet noises of lingering pleasure pushing past his lips in time with his strung out breathing.

Dean’s head was still spinning when he eventually felt Castiel pull the hand out of his boxers. He let out a quiet sigh at the loss of the other's warmth when Castiel rolled onto his back with a content groan.

“That was… very pleasant,” Castiel panted. “Thank you.”

Dean let out a breathless chuckle, rolling over onto his back as well.

“Tell me about it,” he grinned, pulling at his boxers which had already begun to stick to his skin.

“Here.”

Dean heard a soft rustle, and then he felt warm fabric being pressed against chest. He was just about to open his mouth to tell the other that he _did_ have a t-shirt of his own, but decided not to at the last second. If Cas wanted to be chivalrous and offer him his shirt, then Dean wasn't one to look a gifted horse in the mouth.

Using the garment to clean himself off, he heard and felt Castiel lift his hips, sliding his underwear off. After a moment of hesitation Dean followed suit, doing the same to his own boxers before tossing them over the edge of the bed.

“What time is it?” Dean grumbled, squinting his eyes towards the alarm clock over the silhouette of Castiel’s body.

“Almost four,” Castiel provided, pulling the covers up over his now, once again naked body.

“Wow.” Dean snorted out a laugh. “Guess sleeping in the lobby would have been more effective after all.”

“Maybe,” Castiel agreed, and Dean felt his heart thud against the inside of his ribcage when an arm wrapped over his chest, pulling him close. “But not nearly as pleasant.”

“True,” Dean agreed, allowing the other to snuggle in closer against him by raising his arm, letting Castiel rest his head on it.

Fuck, what the hell just happened here exactly?

How did this man—this _Adonis_ —end up naked and content in Dean's arms like this? Without Dean even having tried anything?

“Hey,” he said, suddenly gripped by the need to say something to explain himself.

“Hm?”

Dean licked his lips.

“I just—I don't normally do this, you know,” he started. “Getting all up close and personal with someone like this without, you know, getting to know them first. Or at least without being sufficiently drunk.”

“Should I take that as a compliment?” Castiel asked. Dean knew that it shouldn't be possible, but he could actually _hear_ the confused frown in the others voice.

“I'm just saying… I'm not this easy, usually. It's just that you… You took me by surprise, quite literally.”

Castiel was silent for a while.

“You didn't like it?” he asked eventually, and the honest to god concern Dean heard when the other spoke made him feel damn near guilty.

“Dude, I fucking _loved_ it,” he said heatedly. “Seriously, you have no idea.”

Castiel let out a slow breath, and Dean felt the other relax against his chest.

“Good,” Castiel said, relieved. “That's very good.” Then he added, smiling: “I enjoyed it too.”

“Yeah, I kind of noticed,” Dean grinned. “I'm just sad we had the lights off the entire time. I didn't get a chance to see that pretty face of yours when you came.”

“There's always tomorrow,” Castiel said calmly, and Dean's stomach gave a light flutter of excitement.

“Hey, didn't I just tell you I wasn't that easy?” he purred, nuzzling his nose against the others temple.

“You did,” Castiel hummed. “But I'm planning to, as you put it, ‘take you by surprise’ one more time, so it should be perfectly alright.”

Dean chuckled, pulling the other tighter, allowing their bodies to settle against the mattress.

“You called me Cas,” the other said suddenly, his voice oddly serious. Dean stiffened.

“Yeah… I did.” he swallowed. “It just sort of, slipped out. Sorry.”

“I liked it,” Castiel decided. “No one's called me that before.”

“What, no one?” Dean asked, lifting his head off the pillow. “Ever?”

He felt Castiel shake his head, his hair tickling the side of Dean's neck.

“Well, there's a first time for everything.” Dean concluded. “For both of us, it seems,” he added pointedly, hearing Castiel snort out a laugh in return.

“So,” Castiel said, his voice soft as he turned around to burrow his face against the planes of Dean's chest. “Sleep now?”

“Yeah, sleep now,” Dean concurred. “If you think you can keep your hands to yourself this time?” He gave Castiel a playful poke on the shoulder.

“I’ll do my best,” Castiel mumbled drowsily. “But don’t expect me to make any promises.”

“Sounds good enough for me,” Dean smirked, closing his eyes.

“Good night, Dean,” Castiel murmured, stifling a yawn against Dean's chest.

“Good night, Cas.”

 

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

 

Dean had expected there to be more awkwardness the morning after, but he was pleasantly surprised to find that Castiel wasn’t acting awkward at all. After waking up they spent almost half an hour just lying around in bed, play fighting over the covers and sharing swift, teasing kisses in between murmured compliments and giggled insults.

Eventually, after many failed attempts, they managed to make their way to the bathroom to share a joint shower.

It was a tight fit; the shower not really being built for two people at once, but none of them minded the lack of space very much. Especially not since most of the time inside was spent kissing and pressing in so tightly against each other that the water barely had enough space to trickle down between them. Somehow Dean ended up with his hand wrapped around Castiel’s cock while Cas eagerly returned the favour. Dean was suddenly even more grateful for the small shower cubicle when the orgasm Castiel’s nimble fingers pulled out of him had him leaning heavily against the wall, trapping Castiel in the middle, shaking and moaning Dean’s name against the tiles while their legs threatened to give out from underneath them.

It was hot, and sexy, and it was with a reluctant pang inside his chest that Dean realized that in less than an hour, he and Castiel would be forced to part ways, possibly forever.

He wasn’t one to usually get attached to other people that fast—normally he didn’t even care enough to say goodbye the morning after—but with Castiel it was somehow different. They way they just seemed to click with each other, so effortlessly… Dean had never experienced anything like it, and yet here he was, with a painful clutch in the pit of his stomach which for some reason scared the living hell out of him.

He didn’t want Castiel to go. He wanted to spend more time with him; proper time, like over a dinner or a movie. Fuck, he honestly wanted to _date_ him, jesus.

With a sigh he tossed his duffle up on the bed, zipping it open.

What was the matter with him? He wasn’t this much of a sap usually.

He took out the plastic cover containing his tux for the wedding and started rummaging through the rest of his luggage, attempting to find a new set of clothes for the day.

On the other side of the bed, Castiel stilled in his movement to fasten the tie he currently had slung around his neck, looking at the tuxedo with a brow raised.

“That looks rather fancy,” he commented, sounding impressed.

“Yeah, well,” Dean sighed, pulling a new t-shirt over his head. “My brother’s getting married in two days, and I’m the best man, so…”

“Congratulations,” Castiel offered, his eyes moving from Dean’s face back to look at the tux in contemplation.

Dean bit his lip, glancing at the tux.

It was worth a shot, wasn’t it? After all, there could be no harm in asking?

“You know,” he said, shrugging a plaid shirt over his shoulders. “I have this invitation to the wedding…”

Castiel turned around, looking at him with his head tilted, and Dean brought his hand up,  rubbing awkwardly at his neck.

“And well… according to the invitation I’m allowed to bring someone with me. Like this, you know, plus one thing. And I was thinking… If you’d like… I mean, if you’re not busy, you could… you know, come with me?”

Damn, that all had sounded so much smoother inside his own head, and his confidence deflated when he saw Castiel’s face drop, his eyebrows pinching together in a look of pity.

“Dean…” he started, and yup, that was the sound of Dean’s heart shattering, right there.

“I’d love to,” Castiel said, “I really would, but I can’t.”

“Nah, it’s okay,” Dean quickly assured him, though on the inside he felt as if he was going to throw up from embarrassment. “I was just thinking, you know, since— Well,since we’re both single— I mean, I’m single, I don’t know— Not that I’m accusing you of anything, just, you know, I thought—”

“Dean.”

Dean shut his mouth, cutting his awkward rant off with a mute snap of teeth, and Castiel took a step forward.

“I can’t be your plus one,” he said solemnly, sticking his hand inside his suit jacket, pulling out a tiny, cream envelope. “Because I already have an invitation of my own.”

Dean’s mouth opened, only to close once again as he stared at the letter in Castiel’s hand, recognizing the fine, gold print on the front as the same one on the letter inside his own backpack, still by the door.

Castiel’s lip twitched, and he held out his right hand.

“Castiel Novak,” he introduced himself again. “I’m a childhood friend of Eileen’s, and, in lack of a better word, her maid of honor for the wedding.”

Dean stared at the outstretched hand, then up at Castiel’s face, and then back down at the hand before reaching out, shaking it dumbfounded.

“This is not happening…” Dean mumbled under his breath, and Castiel laughed.

“Perhaps it’s fate?” he argued, his eyes glinting as they sent a calculated glance in Dean’s direction.

“Did you know all along?” Dean asked suddenly, retrieving his hand as he looked up at the other man, suddenly suspicious.

“I made a calculated guess,” Castiel admitted, looking appropriately remorseful. “The name Winchester isn’t that common around here, and… “ He licked his lips, gesturing to his phone which was still charging by the bedside table.

“Eileen sent me a text yesterday, complaining about how seemingly ‘all’ flights were delayed. She mentioned that Sam’s brother had also run into trouble with his flight, and so when you showed up here…” he trailed off, glancing up at Dean’s face.

“For the record, I never intended to do anything other than share the room with you when I invited you to stay,” he said. “It would have been very rude, not to mention awkward, to throw you out, only to run into you later today at the wedding rehearsal.”

Dean nodded, because, yeah, he could sort of agree with that.

“So…” he said, clearing his throat. “I guess that means… we’ll be sort of spending the weekend together from this point on?”

“That sounds correct, yes,” Castiel agreed.

“Wow…” Dean breathed, snorting out a laugh. “I had no idea, I— Just, wow…”

“But I hope you understand why I can’t go to the wedding as your official date,” Castiel clarified, making Dean’s heart drop when his voice adapted that consolidating tone yet again.  

Yeah, of course Dean understood. He could already imagine the awkward conversations that would inevitably take place once Sam and Eileen started asking questions about how they met, and even if Dean didn’t mind it, Castiel might be—

“The seatings at the table would be all wrong,” Castiel said firmly. “Eileen would be beside herself—she's been planning the seating cards for months now.”

Dean blinked, slowly catching up to what the other considered the immediate problem to be. His relief must have been visible on his face, because Castiel’s lip tilted up in an amused smile as he stepped closer, turning Dean away from his bag to snake his arms around his midsection.

“Dean,” Castiel said, and the low gravel of his voice made Dean flush hot all over. “I’ll gladly spend Sam and Eileen’s wedding in your company. In fact, I’d be delighted to. And then, perhaps, after the wedding, if you still want to, we might…?”

He trailed off, leaving the question hanging unspoken in the air between them. Dean blinked, a dazed smile slowly creeping across his lips.

“You mean… Like a date?” he asked. Castiel nodded, canting his head knowingly to the side.

“Sure,” Dean breathed, relief making the word crack slightly on the wayout. “I mean, great, I—  Fuck, I thought you meant—”

“I know what you thought I mean,” Castiel smiled. “You were wrong.”

“Well, thank God for that,” Dean murmured.

Castiel smirked, and then leaned in to press his lips against Dean in a quick kiss before pulling away just as fast.

“Get your things together,” he said. “I’ll text Eileen and let her know we’ll be on our way.”

“Woah, woah,” Dean reached out and grabbed Castiel by the arm, halting him as he turned away to reach for his phone. “How exactly do you plan to explain to her that we already know each other?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Castiel asked, still smirking. “I found you down in the lobby ten minutes ago when I went down to get the number for a cab. You were sleeping on the couch, I read the nametag on your bag and the rest is, as they say, history.”

Dean licked his lips, a giddy warmth spreading through his stomach when he met the amused glint in Castiel’s eyes.

“So…” he said slowly. “Since you didn't go down there to check yourself out of your room, does that mean that you have it booked for more than one night?”

“The entire week actually,” Castiel confessed, sounding very pleased with himself. Dean hummed, pulling the other man back into his arms by the elbow.

“Then, would I be right to assume that if I were to tell Sam that I won’t need to sleep on his couch tonight…” he pondered out loud. “Would I then be left without a place to stay?”

“Not as long as you pay your half of the bill, you’re not.”

“Aw, c’mon,” Dean grinned, trailing his hand down to grab around the curve of Castiel’s ass. “You’re not even going to give me a tiny discount?”

Castiel smirked, gently prying Dean’s hand away from his backside.

“I’ll think about it,” he said suggestively, stepping out of Dean’s reach before the other could haul him back in again. “But for now, just leave your bags where they are. I'll let Eileen know we're coming.”

“Will do,” Dean complied, still grinning as he closed his duffle and put it back on the floor with a mute thump.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Please leave a comment if you enjoyed it :D   
> (also, feel free to leave a comment if you didn't, and let me know why so that I can improve myself for my next fic)  
> Have a great day! <3


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